Stitches and Stones (9 page)

“Two seconds!” Zoey exclaimed. “It felt like an hour!”

“It might have
felt
like an hour, but it wasn't,” Libby said. “It just looked like you hesitated for a second or two.”

“Whew! So I didn't look like a complete dork.” Zoey sighed in relief. “And I think they liked us a little better than Ivy's group.”

“Absolutely,” Priti said.

“Good job, guys!” Kate added. “We showed them!”

It still wasn't enough to win the competition, though. A group of eighth graders came in first place. But then Ms. Austen said she had an impromptu award to give out.

“I was so impressed with the razzle-dazzle accessories worn by Priti, Libby, Zoey, and Kate, that I'm giving them the Most Pizzazz award,” she announced.

Zoey practically skipped up the aisle with the others to get her certificate, which Ms. Austen had hastily written out backstage. She was excited to have won
something
for her original designs. She knew she hadn't put in her best effort this week because of all the distractions on her blog, but sewing was her thing, so it would have been really disappointing not to win anything at all.

“Today turned out to be fun, but I am
so glad
this week is over!” Zoey confessed to Kate on the bus home.

“I know. It's been a tough week for you. Did you get to speak to your dad last night?”

“No,” Zoey said, moaning. “He really did take a long shower. I guess I fell asleep. And I didn't want to bother him.”

“You have to talk to him over the weekend, Zo,” Kate said. “Especially if there are more comments.”

“I know,” Zoey said. “It's gotten to the point where I dread going home to check my blog instead of looking forward to it—and that's totally cray, right?”

“Seriously cray,” Kate agreed.

“I'll definitely talk to Dad,” Zoey promised.

When she got home, Zoey had a snack and then went up to her room to get her laptop. She felt a sense of foreboding as she clicked on the shortcut for her blog.

The first few comments were from her usual readers, complimenting her on the accessories and asking how the karaoke competition went. But then . . . more mean comments! Really mean ones. So mean that Zoey slammed her laptop shut. She didn't want to read any more of them. She didn't want to even look at her blog. It had always been fun, but now it wasn't.

This isn't going away,
Zoey thought.
It's getting worse. Why do people I don't even know hate me so much?

It was definitely time to talk to her father.

This was too big for her to handle by herself.

To Blog or Not to Blog

I hate to admit it, but I'm glad Spirit Week is over. That sounds very spiritless of me, doesn't it? Thanks for asking about the karaoke contest. After a moment that seemed like an hour of me completely freezing up, I pulled myself together and had a great time. I might
not be the best singer in the world, but between us, we make a great group. We didn't win the karaoke competition, but we
did
win an award for Most Pizzazz for our sparkletastic accessories. That made me feel pretty good, and Kate and Libby won Best Team Costume for the Oreos and milk costume, which was awesome too.

But to tell you the truth, this week has been kind of crummy—mostly because of what's been taking place right here on Sew Zoey. I'm feeling pretty blogged out, and it's made me think seriously about if I even want to keep blogging at all. That question is the inspiration for today's clothing sketches. Don't get me wrong—I
love
this blog, and I've learned so much from the feedback and the comments you've posted. You inspire me to try new things and to work harder, and you've helped me find solutions to sewing problems—and sometimes even to middle school ones, too!

But you might have noticed there have been some new readers on the blog, and a bunch of comments that . . . well . . . aren't very nice. That's actually putting it mildly. Some of them have been really,
really
mean. I've thought about it, and while I know it's a free country and we have a right to free speech and all that,
this is my blog, so I get to set the rules. Like Dad says if Marcus and I argue with him when he's laid down the law about something, “This country might be a democracy, but this house isn't.”

So here they are—and there are only two, so it's not like I'm getting too bossy or anything, I hope:

1. Sew Zoey welcomes constructive criticism, but nasty comments will be deleted.

2. Users who write nasty comments will be blocked.

I think that's fair, don't you? We should all be able to come here without having to worry about people being mean. It's bad enough having to deal with that at school.

Zoey spent Friday night curled up on the sofa, watching movies and worrying. What if the people from
Très Chic
read her blog and started to believe the stuff the mean commenters wrote? What if they thought she really
was
a fraud who didn't design and sew her own clothes and decided not to include
her in the online feature? It would be so awful to be cut when none of that was even true!

Maybe she should just take a break from Sew Zoey. Or just stop doing it, period.

But the thought of not doing Sew Zoey made her even sadder than the nasty comments. In the short time since she started the blog, so many great things had come from it. She had a secret fashion fairy godmother, Fashionsista, who was an amazing mentor and, even more than that, a friend who sent her encouraging notes and gifts. She'd been invited to be a guest judge on her favorite TV show,
Fashion Showdown
. And now, she was about to be part of a feature on teen designers in her absolute favorite fashion magazine of all time,
Très Chic
. None of those amazing things would have happened if she hadn't started Sew Zoey. It seemed wrong—even worse, totally unfair—that she would lose that because some mystery people were acting mean. If she stopped blogging, she'd also miss the Sew Zoey readers. Even though they hadn't met, they felt like friends.

Zoey knew one thing for sure: No matter what,
even if she stopped blogging, she would never stop sewing, sketching, and coming up with ideas for clothes. That was as much a part of her as breathing.

Marcus came up from the basement, where he'd been practicing his drums since after dinner, and flopped onto the end of the sofa.

“When's Dad coming home?” Zoey asked. “He's hardly been home all week.”

She knew she sounded whiny, but . . . she missed having her dad around at dinner every night.

“I know, Zo, but Eastern State has a big championship game coming up the week after next, and some of the big players have injuries. Dad has got to do extra PT sessions with them, so they're ready to play.”

“I know. It's just . . .” Zoey hesitated.

“It stinks when he comes home late and tired every night.”

“Yeah. That,” Zoey said. “At least he's not working tomorrow.”

“Zoey,” Marcus began. “Is everything okay?”

Zoey thought about telling him everything
about the blog, but when she tried to speak, nothing came out. Finally, she mumbled, “Yeah, I just need to talk to Dad.”

Marcus shrugged. “Okay, well, I can think of something that will cheer you up in the meantime,” Marcus said. “The latest
Très Chic
came in the mail today.”

Marcus definitely knew how to make her feel better. A new issue of
Très Chic
to look through?

Zoey's evening was looking up!

The next morning her dad was home, and not only that, he'd made special pancakes with a secret ingredient Zoey and Marcus had to guess.

“Something citrusy,” Marcus said.

“Yes . . . Orange zest?” Zoey guessed.

“You got it!” Mr. Webber said. “And here's some freshly squeezed orange juice from the de-zested oranges.”

It was great having him around, and not tired and distracted like he'd been all week.

“What time are we meeting this young lady with the blog?” her dad asked. “And where?”

“Ten thirty,” Zoey said. “At A Stitch in Time. Her name's Allie, and she designs handbags and accessories.”

“How old is this Allie again?” Mr. Webber asked.

“She's in high school,” Zoey said. “Her mom is coming too.”

“Maybe I should start a music site,” Marcus said. “Zoey gets to meet all these people and be on TV and in magazines because of her blog. I'm so proud of you, sis!”

Zoey was about to say that it wasn't all about meeting cool people—there were some bad parts too. But she decided to wait and speak to her father when they were alone. Would Marcus be proud of her if he knew what people were saying?